


2.5mg Just Ain't Enough For Me

by madsshine



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gen, also barely has a plot oops again, angsty as fuck whoops, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:44:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2369825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsshine/pseuds/madsshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey Way is a selectively mute teenager, just trying to survive in a world that refuses to accommodate him. But that doesn't mean that he can't learn to love himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2.5mg Just Ain't Enough For Me

School kind of sucks for Mikey Way. It's not awful- he gets decent enough grades, and it's not like he's bullied or anything- but he's pretty much friendless. He gets that though; its got to be difficult to be friends with a kid who can't talk to you. He wouldn’t bother talking to that kid either.

Right now he's sitting in AP calculus, waiting for the teacher to show up. He always dreads this class; the kids are way too loud, and he can never concentrate on his work. So he's grateful when he hears the door creak open, presumably the teacher coming in, Mikey thinks. But he's wrong. He's horribly, miserably wrong. Instead of his regular teacher, a substitute is standing in the doorway. She looks angry and uptight, and she makes Mikey’s skin crawl with discomfort. Her clothes are all crisp and proper, and her bun is twisted just a few degrees too tight, making her look even more severe. 

For most people, Mikey knows, a sub wouldn't be a problem. In fact, he's sure lots of kids in his class are thrilled with the idea that they'll probably do nothing all period. For Mikey though, it's a different story. All he can think about is the dreaded moment when the teacher calls his name on the attendance- because no one ever tells the sub about his condition in advance- and he won't be able to answer. It terrifies him. He feels mortified already. Laying his head on his desk, he takes deep breaths and tries to relax his throat enough that _maybe_ he'll be able to force out a quiet "here" when the time comes. He knows it won't work though. It never does. 

Much too soon, he hears the teachers droning voice ask "Michael Way?" He hear a few snickers from behind him, and he feels his face heat up and flush red. Suddenly, he’s breaking out in a cold sweat, and the fluorescent lights seem much too harsh for his eyes. The world seems to shrink around him, and he feels so fucking stupid. He should be able to do this; It’s just a single word. One syllable, and he can’t even say it. Maybe there is something wrong with him. He doesn't even bother to try to speak before he hears someone say,

"He doesn't talk, Miss." 

The teacher sighs irritably. "Well if he’s not going to say anything, he's getting marked absent," she snaps, shaking her head as she ticks next to Mikey's name with her pencil. Tears sting Mikey’s eyes. His mom is going to be so pissed that this happened again. All he can do for the next 50 minutes is try to keep himself calm.  
~

"What up, kiddo?" Gerard asks as soon as he spots Mikey in the school parking lot. He's hunched over against Gerards beat up silver car, finally relaxed now that he sees his brother. Gerard always understands Mikey- he gets that he's not just lazy, he keeps the volume on the car radio turned low because he knows how sensitive his ears are, and he always let's him cling to him when he needs to, even though he's probably too old for that now. 

"Nothing exciting," he whispers once Gerard gets close enough to hear, "What about you?" 

"We're making comics in art class," he grins as he slides into the seat. "I'll show you mine when we get home. I think it's going pretty well. My hero’s called Fudge Lord. You’ll think he’s fuckin’ rad, trust me." 

Mikey's so, so grateful that Gerard is okay with just keeping up a one-sided conversation while they drive home. He needs some time to collect himself, needs to be more secluded before he'll be able to talk. Fiddling with his sleeves, he tries to convince himself that what happened in math isn't that bad. That his mom won't yell at him for it. Its useless though, he can't help but worry. Gerard seems to sense this, and he shoots him a sympathetic look, dark hair falling over his sunglasses-obscured eyes, his lips curled in a gentle smile.

“You’ll be okay, bud,” he says. Mikey just jiggles his foot and tries not to think about it. 

~

“ _Again_ Mikey?” his mom is screeching. “You won’t talk to the damn teacher and I get a call that you’re skipping class? This is too much, Michael. One more time and-”

“I’m trying, mom,” hot tears are streaking down Mikey’s cheeks, and he’s trembling. His whole face is hot and flushed. 

“Well you need to try harder. It’s embarrassing. It reflects badly on _us_ when you pull this shit.” 

“It’s not my fault,” comes out as a choked whisper, and Mikey can feel himself shutting down. He hates when it happens at home, his one refuge from the anxiety of dealing with other people. 

“Well you can tell yourself that, then!” she hisses, “ But if you really can’t help it you need to be in psychotherapy. Oh, but wait, you refuse to do that! So when you’re ready to either give this stupid act up or get some fucking help, you let me know.” With that, she whips around and storms into the kitchen, a furious blonde hurricane of frustration. 

Mikey runs up to his room and closes his eyes, sitting on his bed, wrapped in soft blankets. He tries to stop the tears, but eventually he gives up, and just brings a box of kleenex in from the bathroom. He tries not to let his mom’s insensitivity get to him. She means well, even if she doesn’t understand. When he hears her call “Dinner!” It’s shrill in his ears, but she at least sounds like she’s calmed down a bit. That’s good– he doesn’t think he can handle any more stress today. 

~

People are always surprised to hear about how chatty Mikey can be. But, oh, he can be. At home, with just his family, you’d be hard pressed to get him to shut up. In fact, It’s almost impossible to get a word in edgewise in the Way household. Of course he still can’t talk about anything too important to him, or about his feelings, but anything else is fair game- and that’s good enough for him.

Over tonight’s roast beef and potatoes, he tells his parents about all the good aspects of his day- how his art teacher complimented his piece, how he managed to ask his english teacher a question after class. They don’t really seem impressed, but he didn’t expect them to be. They don’t understand what a huge deal it is for him. Between mouthfuls of meat, he and Gerard debate about superheroes, and for a while, he feels _normal_. That’s not a word he usually hears in relation to himself, but it feels so good to use. “You’re not normal!” he remembers his father used to shout, “There’s something wrong with you!” 

He rambles about school, and comics, and whatever other menial things he can think of, getting out all the words that get clogged up in his throat the rest of the time. Gerard plays footsie with his under the table, and his father rolls his eyes at Mikey’s overcompensating conversation. His mother just smiles at him and when, like always, he asks her, 

“Do you love me, mom?” 

She just sighs and says, “Of course I do, honey. Always.” 

~

It’s at night time when things get really bad for Mikey. Not being able to speak is hard enough, but lying in bed, waiting for sleep to come is the perfect time for all of his bad memories to resurface. His mind flashes back to this morning, and from there the confused whispers of his classmates when he was little fill his head. The ghosts of old, timeless taunts– “Do you even know how to talk, freak?”–ring in his ears. It’s at times like this when he feels so very, very alone in his head. 

Thinking back to all the punishments and harassment that he’s been given for being himself, purposeful or not, is basically a nightly routine for him. He can’t help it. Although he despises the way he’s been treated, especially by the people meant to be helping him, he’s comforted by the knowledge that those incidents are what shaped him as a person. And he likes who he is; he does. He’s kind, he’s smart, and he’s passionate. He knows right from wrong. 

Deep inside, he knows that no one will ever cure him of this illness. Sometimes that thought makes him want to jump in front of a car, but he’s slowly but surely starting to accept it. He thinks that one day he’ll be able to accept his disability as a part of him. Not yet, but eventually. It will come. 

So tomorrow, he’ll get out of bed. He’ll take his medication. He’ll go to school. He’ll hang out with Gerard. He’ll do thing he loves to do. He’ll accept his own silence. And one day, he will be heard. 

He will.


End file.
